‘My mother,’ said Clement, ’this gentleman and lady, M. le Baron de Ribaumont and Mademoiselle sa soeur, have become involved in this crowd.  They will do us the favour of taking shelter here till the uproar is over.’

Madame Darpent welcomed them kindly, but with anxious inquiries.  Her son only threw her a word in answer, prayed to be excused, and dashed off again.

‘Ah! there he is.  May he be saved, the good old man,’ cried Madame Darpent.

And they could see a carriage with four horses containing the Lieutenant Comminges holding a white-haired old man, in a very shabby dressing-gown; while soldiers, men, women, boys, all struggled, fought, and shrieked round it, like the furies let loose.  The carriage passed on, but the noise and struggle continued, and Madame Darpent was soon intensely anxious about her son.

It seemed that Clement had carried his warnings, and that four or five of the councillors had taken care to be beyond the walls of Paris; among them his own father, the Councillor Darpent, who was a prudent man, and thought it best to be on the right side.  The President Broussel, a good-humoured, simple, hearty old man, was not quite well, and though he thanked his young friend, he would not believe any such harm was intended against him as to make him derange his course of medicine.

Thus, when Comminges marched into the house to arrest him, he was sitting at dinner, eating his bouillon, in dressing-gown and slippers.  His daughter cried out that he was not fit to leave the house.  At the same time, an old maid-servant put her head out at a window, screaming that her master was going to be carried off.

He was much beloved, and a host of people ran together, trying to break the carriage and cut the traces.  Comminges, seeing that no time was to be lost, forced the poor old lawyer down to the carriage just as he was, in his dressing-gown and slippers, and drove off.  But the mob thickened every moment, in spite of the guards, and a very few yards beyond where they had taken refuge at Madame Darpent’s, a large wooden bench had been thrown across the street, and the uproar redoubled round it—­the yells, shrieks, and cries ringing all down the road.  However, the carriage passed that, and dashed on, throwing down and crushing people right and left; so that Madame Darpent was first in terror for her son, and then would fain have rushed out to help the limping, crying sufferers.

They heard another horrible outcry, but could see no more, except the fluctuating heads of the throng below them, and loud yells, howls, and maledictions came to their ears.  By and by, however, Clement returned, having lost his hat in the crowd; with blood on his collar, and with one of his lace cuffs torn, though he said he was not hurt.

‘They have him!’ he said bitterly; ‘the tyranny has succeeded!’

‘Oh, hush, my son!  Take care!’ cried his mother.